


Dancers on a String

by winternacht



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Desk Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Foreplay, Frottage, M/M, Neediness, Praise Kink, Tie Kink, Trust Kink, set during season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winternacht/pseuds/winternacht
Summary: When Jon is at the height of his paranoia, Elias decides to teach him a lesson about trust.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 23
Kudos: 231
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Dancers on a String

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovelit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelit/gifts).



> Very late treat, I know, but I got so inspired by your letter and thought it would be a pity to abandon the fic just because of the deadline. I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> A big thank you to Spacehopper for all the help!

They had pretended to be busy packing up for the evening, but when Jon walked past his assistants’ desks, he could feel their eyes on his back. The air was heavy with unsaid words, a storm of hushed whispers brewing behind him. He’d meant to retreat to his office, but now he decided to linger until they were gone, unable to bear the thought of knowing they were plotting on the other side of the door. Tim ignored him entirely as he exited the room, Sasha gave him a curt goodbye, and Martin looked like he wanted to say something, before he sighed and quietly wished Jon a nice evening. And just like that, he was finally alone, and he didn’t know if it was better that way or not. It had to be, the atmosphere around him losing some of that odd density. But the weight on his chest remained.

He loosened his tie and took a deep breath, though the air was too stale and dry to bring relief. But it was too late to take a walk outside. Instead, he decided to patrol the Archives for a while, taking particular care to check the hatch to the tunnels. There was a fine layer of dust where he’d last touched it, standing out against the thicker layer surrounding it. Not even a gust of wind had disturbed it, much less another person. So there was no reason to focus on it. No longer a point in putting off his return to his office. For better or worse, he had no new findings to record tonight.

His keys jangled loudly as he pulled them from his pocket. He’d already put his free hand on the door handle when the key refused to twist further than half a turn. The realisation hit him before he could have tried again, and ice prickled across his skin. Had one of the others returned while he’d been checking the hatch? But even so, since when did they have keys to his office? He had occasionally lent them his keys previously, but never quite long enough for anyone to make a copy. As far as he was aware. And anyone could have taken the keys from the janitorial office.

Jon gazed over his shoulder, trying to look for anything to defend himself with if need be. Something innocuous if it turned out to be a misunderstanding. But still solid enough to-

He yelped when the door handle moved. The vase on Martin’s desk, all it would take were a few steps. But he hadn’t even taken one when the door swung open to reveal Elias.

“What are you doing in my office?” Jon said, a rough edge in his voice where anger and anxiety met. When had Elias even got here? While his assistants had been working? While he’d been looking around the Archives? Neither thought appealed much to him -- that they wouldn’t have said a thing. That he might have missed someone else’s presence so easily.

“Waiting for you, of course,” Elias replied dryly. “Though I started worrying you’d gone home already.” He stepped back, making an inviting motion. After a few moments of hesitation, Jon followed him inside, though he took care not to fully turn his back on Elias. Still, in a way, it was a relief to find him, because Jon more or less knew what to expect now. Another complaint, most likely. That seemed to be the only reason they talked at all these days.

“Well, what is it then?” Jon stepped backwards to lean against his desk. “I still have work to do.”

“In that case, I’ll keep it brief.” Elias’s eyes bored deep into him, and Jon suddenly wished he’d gone behind the desk instead, just to have something between the two of them. “What are you so afraid of, Jon?”

“What?” All irritation drained from Jon’s voice in a single syllable, making room for an odd sense of unease that clouded over his thoughts, leaving him grasping for the right response. If there even was one. “I’m not.”

“Please, there’s no need for games. I saw your face when I opened the door.”

“You… you let yourself into my office. Without any warning.” He took a deep breath. “Everybody would find that at least mildly unsettling.”

“Yes. But you weren’t just mildly unsettled, were you?” Elias took a step closer, and his intense gaze made Jon feel small. “What were you so afraid of finding behind this door?”

Jon’s pulse was hammering so loudly in his ears that he almost strained to hear. “Look, Elias, this conversation isn’t-”

“Please answer the question, Jon.” There was something strange in his voice, unusually gentle, but with an underlying sharpness that threatened to flay him open. As though it was more than a question, and if he told the truth, he would give more than just an answer.

“I don’t like it when people tamper with my things.” There was a pleading note to his voice that he couldn’t suppress. 

“And you’re deathly afraid of that?”

“No, but-”

“What is it then?”

“Gertrude got murdered here, for heaven’s sake!” He slapped a hand over his mouth a moment after the words had passed his lips. His throat felt oddly raw from raising his voice like this. From the confession that still burned on his tongue.

Elias was standing in front of him now, and Jon looked up at him forlornly, his hand sinking down again. He wished he could step away, but he found himself snared by Elias’s soft expression, the deep understanding in his eyes.

“You believe you’re next?”

“It’s a reasonable assumption, isn’t it?” Was it? Jon wasn’t sure. His head felt oddly full and empty at once. But he did have enough awareness left to suck in a breath when Elias placed his hands on Jon’s shoulders.

“And you think it might have been me?”

“It could have been anyone at the Institute.” Jon tried to evade his gaze, to turn to the side, but Elias’s gentle grip on his chin stopped him. His breath started coming in short bursts, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. How easily Elias’s hand could slip down to his throat now. “It could have been you.”

“Yes, it could have been,” Elias said calmly.

Jon forced himself to swallow down the obvious question. _Was it you?_ The words were vibrating on his vocal cords, but he couldn’t. He was terrified to ask it now, as Elias’s hands wandered lower, his fingers trailing down his neck so gently yet quickly, that when Jon sucked in a breath, they were already at his tie.

“I’ve been wondering what was going on,” Elias said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in such a state before.

“What state?” Jon asked, but it lacked the sharpness of proper retort. He knew the answer already.

“You've grown sloppy. Erratic. A performance not at all befitting the diligent man I appointed Head Archivist.” He hooked his fingers under Jon’s loose tie, his knuckles brushing featherlight against his throat. “You’re a bit of a mess, quite frankly.”

Jon gave an annoyed huff, but the rising anger fell to pieces when Elias began unravelling his tie in one slow movement. Holding the ends just tight enough to rein Jon in when he shifted back, nearly sitting on the desk. Reminding him of the position he was in.

Jon pressed his lips together to keep himself from panting, unsure what stole his breath. It wasn’t the cold grip of fear he expected. At least not only that. He was afraid that if he made even the quietest noise, he would shatter the fragile moment around them. The illusion of time standing still, even as Elias’s hands circled Jon’s neck and popped up his collar. The backs of Elias’s fingers kept brushing against his throat as he retied the tie, every movement precise even though he did not take his eyes off Jon’s. And Jon didn’t dare break his gaze in turn, as if that one moment of inattention could seal his fate. But Gertrude had been shot, not strangled, hadn’t she? Were these hands capable of such violence, when they felt so soft against his skin? He tried to find the answer in Elias’s eyes, but he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t.

“Elias-” It came out in a desperate sigh, laced with feelings he was afraid to name as Elias pushed the knot up against his throat. For a few moments, he held the tension, as Jon’s breathing quickened, to fill his lungs with air as long as he still could. It was then that Elias leaned forward, pressing his lips to Jon’s, there one second and gone the next, and Jon swayed forward before he could stop himself, lips parted readily. His hands came to rest on Elias’s chest, and he fought the urge to grasp his shirt and pull him back. Only for Elias to retreat, leaving Jon more lost than before. But the moment had already passed. 

“That-that’s enough,” Jon finally said. “There is a statement I need to record.”

“All right.” As if they were concluding a simple work-based conversation and nothing more. It left Jon feeling oddly cold, and he was half-tempted to step forward, to reach out, when Elias spoke up again. “Know that I've always expected great things from you. Even with recent events, I see no reason to doubt that.”

Warmth flickered deep inside Jon’s chest, rising to his cheeks as he nodded. 

He didn’t shift away this time when Elias ran a hand across the length of his tie, a smile on his lips as he loosely gripped the knot. “A Hanover suits you,” he said. Then he turned away with a brief goodbye.

Jon’s legs shook as he walked around the desk, and he let himself drop into his chair before they could fully give out. His hand traced Elias’s touch, finally curling around the knot. He didn’t let go until his chest stopped heaving.

As had become his habit, he pulled out the tape recorder he used for supplementals. It was noteworthy. Elias waiting for him, for no particular reason Jon could discern. If only the tape had been running all along. He could relisten to it and focus on Elias’s words without his pulse echoing in his ears. But perhaps it was better that it hadn’t caught the whisper of cloth. Or the desperation in his voice.

* * *

The knock at Elias’s office door was so quiet that he would have missed it, had he not seen Jon approach. And perhaps that had been his intention, to be able to convince himself he’d made an effort and had been rebuffed. Truly, what skill Jon lacked in knowing deceit, he made up for with an incredible talent for self-deception.

It would have been easy enough to let him go, to continue a rather one-sided game of cat and mouse that had Jon rushing out of any room or diving into a different hallway upon spotting Elias, when in reality, Elias’s presence was the only reason his legs had carried him in that direction in the first place. When the only thing that seemed to calm him again was to lock himself in his office or an abandoned storage room, to lean against the cool wall and run his fingers across the silken length of his tie, guilty and hidden from all eyes but Elias’s. And while it was unfortunate that he was in no position yet to grasp the connection between them that grew along with his power, it was a delight to see how much it already affected him.

“Come in,” Elias called out, just as Jon was about to turn away. He hesitated, his weight shifting from one leg to the other as he contemplated his decision. Until he took a deep breath and opened the door, his voice firm as he greeted Elias, not that it could mask his exhaustion. Elias smiled as he returned the greeting. Direct confrontation suited Jon much better than avoidance, no matter how partial Elias himself was to the latter.

Jon hesitated when he spotted Elias’s desk, already cleared for the evening, but pushed on, nevertheless. “I just wanted to thank you,” he said, hovering next to the chair with a hand on its back.

“What for?”

“The CCTV footage. I understand that allowing me to take a look was a bit… unorthodox.”

“Ah, of course. You’re welcome. I trust this means there will be no further issues with your colleagues?”

Jon pressed his lips together briefly. “There won’t.”

“Good. I would really prefer to avoid another intervention.”

“So would I.”

Silence spread between them, too tense to serve as an end to their conversation, one-sided and yet inescapable, filling the room like fog, steadily growing thicker. Jon’s gaze flitted across Elias’s desk, the shelves behind him, looking for something to settle on. But in the end, Jon had no choice but to turn back to Elias, who leaned forward, almost imperceptibly, when Jon took a deep breath.

“Did you notice anything… unusual about the feed?”

A gentle flow of power rushed over Elias’s face, a feeling of trembling fingers cupping at his face, caressing his temples. Trying to worm their way into his head and drag the secrets hidden inside to the surface. A surface this weak attempt couldn’t even hope to breach. Jon himself probably had no idea what he was doing, attributing the pounding of his heart to nervousness. Unaware how deep his need for an answer ran. But Elias could see it in his eyes, alight with curiosity, flickering with uncertainty.

“What do you mean, Jon?”

“I mean….” Elias dipped into the whirl of thoughts in Jon’s head. One question in particular rang through his mind: _Did you feel it watch you too_?

Of course he’d felt it. It was a suitable trade-off, to deflect the camera’s sight and allow it to take in another. The depth of the grim knowledge the sectioned officers had. The kaleidoscope of Jon’s fear, facets he could neither name nor understand, and it was that ignorance that he dreaded the most. He remained silent, afraid that he might be saying too much, afraid of ridicule, afraid of the danger he might be putting himself in.

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” he finally said, giving a nervous laugh. “I should really just-“

“Jon.” Elias’s voice was gentle, calm. It didn’t have to be more than that to quiet the tempest in his mind. “Come here.”

The storm in his mind raged anew. And still, he took a step towards the desk. Elias turned his chair to the side, and Jon followed his direction, slowly rounding the obstacle between them. Each step seemed to echo loudly through the room, no matter how hesitantly Jon set his foot down. Until he came to a stand just within arm’s reach of Elias.

“You’re not just here to talk about the CCTV, are you, Jon?” Elias asked.

“What?”

This time, Elias didn’t need to dive into the pool of his thoughts again. He could tell by the tinge of red on his skin, by the way his hand briefly twitched towards his chest, towards that primly tied knot, just the way Elias had shown him, before he made a fist and lowered it again. 

Elias let his eyes trail down to the grey silk, slowly and deliberately, so Jon would follow his lead. The knot bobbed slightly as Jon swallowed hard, and when Elias dragged his eyes upwards again, the red in Jon’s cheeks had deepened.

“That’s not-” Before Jon could protest further, Elias reached for the tie, tangling both ends around his fingers, and pulled him closer, a steady force that had Jon stepping forward quite obligingly. Until he met Elias’s knees, closed and immovable.

“What are you doing?” His voice shook slightly.

“You’ve practised, haven’t you?” He tugged at the tie, relishing the little gasp that escaped Jon at the bite of the fabric.

Elias sat back languidly and reeled Jon in, leaving him with no choice but to open his legs as he stepped forward. Elias’s free hand curled around Jon’s hip and pulled him down onto his lap.

“You’re avoiding my question,” Jon said sharply, trying to preserve his dignity by balancing on the balls of his feet and holding on to the back of the chair to avoid resting his weight on Elias’s thighs, his limbs trembling slightly with the strain of the position. A strain Elias sharpened further by nudging Jon’s thighs further apart with his own, revelling in Jon’s stubbornness as he refused to relent.

“Only because I’m curious, Jon,” Elias said, letting the longer end of Jon’s tie fall away from between his fingers.

“About what?” He could taste the compulsion as he breathed in the air between them, almost too sweet to resist. Allowing it, for once, to pull an answer from him.

“About how reckless you can be.”

“I’m not—” Elias pulled lightly at the short end of the tie, tightening the knot. Jon gasped, hips twitching in Elias’s hand. “E-Elias…”

“I was on your list of suspects as well, wasn’t I?” Elias said, giving the tie some slack again. 

“Maybe you still are,” Jon shot back, breathless. “You’re not exactly making a good case for yourself right now.”

“I’m not, am I?” Elias chuckled. “So why are you still here?”

“I’m… it’s because…” He couldn’t say it, of course, never one to articulate his emotions if he could even identify them in the murky waters of fear and paranoia. But Elias could see it all so clearly as he gingerly pried Jon’s mind open. Jon shivered, a very human instinct urging him to look away, to break the contact that allowed Elias to dive past these protective layers. To find what Jon wanted to keep hidden from the world and from himself.

This part that Jon didn’t recognise in himself. A part that gorged itself on his own fear as he hovered in a state of uncertainty and suspicion, when he was so desperate to trust. As he pushed himself towards danger, driven by a self-destructive curiosity that could never be satisfied. It was a part that resonated deep within Elias, a part he wanted to feed in turn.

“I understand, Jon,” he said softly. He weaved the truth of his words into Jon’s fears and doubts, just enough of it to twist them into ambivalence, to give Jon a fine thread of hope to cling to.

Breathless seconds ticked by as Elias held Jon’s gaze. Finally, Jon’s legs relaxed, lifting off the ground as he shifted into a more comfortable position, his weight now resting on Elias’s thighs. A shuddering sigh escaped Jon when Elias raised a hand to caress his cheek.

“Elias,” Jon whispered, his jaw trembling slightly when he leaned into the touch, his hands slipping to Elias’s shoulders. Elias took his time to soothe him, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Eventually, Jon’s eyes fluttered shut, remaining half-closed when he opened them again. His features relaxed.

“I have to say, I’m rather impressed with you,” Elias murmured. “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary in the footage.” Jon blinked before growing alert, straightening himself up, but before he could get too far, Elias pulled him closer by his tie again. He could taste the heat on Jon’s skin as he leaned in close, lips brushing against his cheek. “But I knew that if one person could find anything, it would be you. Perceptiveness, intuition, and a keen eye. These are the qualities I value in my Archivist.”

Jon exhaled against Elias’s neck, his hot breath tickling pleasantly. It hitched when Elias pulled on the tie again, and as the knot tightened, his breathing grew laboured, got thin when the strain became too much. He twisted and squirmed, pressing forward, chasing relief and finding none when Elias caged him in a firm embrace, drawing his other arm back further.

A choked gasp escaped Jon when their hips met, and Elias finally allowed the tie some slack. But only to avoid dulling the sensation when he ground up against Jon, to savour the hardness that grew between his legs, and let him feel his own arousal in turn.

Jon pressed his face into the crook of Elias’s neck, eyes firmly squeezed shut as he drew in harsh breath after harsh breath that shuddered across Elias’s skin. His back quivered beneath the soothing circles Elias drew, muscles hopelessly taut.

Elias released the tie and slipped his fingers beneath Jon’s collar, beneath the constraint of his tie, where he could feel his skin burn along the indents the bite of the fabric had left. Then he pulled Jon backwards, just enough to see his face.

His eyes were wide, a beautiful tandem of undisguised fear and curiosity, shame and need. The redness on his face differed from a mere flush in its all-encompassing severity. His lips parted in a plea, and Elias surged against him to kiss him, to taste that desperate hunger that guided Jon on his path to Beholding.

Elias pulled him backwards again, enjoying the feeling of Jon straining against his grip to lean forward.

“What did I say?” Elias whispered against his lips. “Reckless indeed.” He muffled Jon’s answer with a kiss, letting one hand slide down to Jon’s hips.

When they parted, Elias urged him to get up, giving him a light squeeze. Jon obeyed shakily, holding on to Elias’s shoulders until he regained his footing. The brief distance allowed his thoughts to catch up to him. Elias read it clearly in his eyes, in the way his hand tightened against the surface of the desk. It was his opportunity to run. To leave Elias and everything that had happened behind in his room, until he could no longer bear the secrecy and commit it all to tape.

Jon’s mind twisted itself around the possibilities, frantic thoughts that Elias caught so easily. That perhaps Elias _wanted_ him to leave and let this event fester between them. That Elias was lulling him into a false sense of security. That maybe if he left now…

Elias stood. All he had to do was open his arms, and Jon stepped forward, all but falling into his embrace, hands curling against his chest. Terrified that it was the wrong choice. Terrified of the implications of it being the right choice. Because it had to be.

Elias held Jon close as he pivoted them, lifting Jon onto the desk with ease. He clung to Elias’s arms as Elias lowered him onto the surface, hiding his face against his shoulder again. It was a lesson he still had to learn: The Archivist was meant to be seen.

He let out a dismayed little noise when Elias extracted himself from his grip. But it was only so he could lock eyes with Jon as his hands wandered to Jon’s belt. To watch him flush with realisation. And still, his gaze never strayed as Elias opened it, gently pressing his palms against Jon’s erection, smiling at the little hisses he elicited.

Elias went down on one knee on the plush carpet as he relieved Jon of his shoes and slacks, exposing his scars, those beautiful marks that always remained hidden to the world. A testament to his resilience. Elias’s hands curled gently around Jon’s calf to hold him still as he leaned forward, and kissed a scar just above Jon’s knee.

Jon’s hips bucked into the air, his other leg pressing against Elias’s side. Content, Elias exhaled against his skin before his lips travelled further upwards. He allowed Jon to curl his legs around him when he reached a cluster of scars on the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. Elias pressed his lips to the twisted skin, feeling the whorls along his lips. Jon’s legs trembled around his shoulders, bracketing him in firmly.

It was a spot Elias enjoyed lingering at, this secret space that reminded Jon of the abject terror he’d experienced. That would now remind Jon of Elias’s hot tongue as he traced the edges of the scars, the sharp pinch of his teeth. Jon moaned, delicate little noises that could so easily spill past the doorframe.

He angled Jon’s legs up with his movement as he mouthed at Jon’s cock through his briefs, feeling it throb against his lips even through the thin fabric. With every little jerk of his hips, Jon’s heels dug into Elias’s back. Barely giving him enough room to expose Jon’s cock, his thighs trembling when Elias’s lips brushed along the hard length.

Jon called out his name plaintively when Elias pushed his legs aside to raise himself up, a hand on Jon’s hip keeping him from thrusting against his torso. Only when Jon stopped moving did Elias start to unbutton Jon’s shirt from the bottom, trailing the movement of his hands with his lips, kissing the little scars he encountered along the way. The constellation of the pain he’d endured for Elias. Jon’s hands buried themselves in his hair, helpless pulls as he arched up against him, his legs locked around Elias’s waist. Hopelessly seeking relief as Elias deliberately ignored his cock.

He savoured the feeling of Jon’s heart beating fervently beneath his kisses. One day, he knew, it would have to still. A risk he was perfectly willing to take, eager to witness Jon’s choice. But he hadn’t quite anticipated the ache of his hope to feel it flutter under his lips again when the time came.

With one last kiss, Elias straightened up, leaving the top buttons untouched. His breath stilled at the sight before him. Lascivious, almost, half-exposed as Jon was, little marks blossoming along his torso, along his heaving chest, his hands curled loosely into fists. The intensity of Jon’s gaze on him made him shiver, a mere taste of the power he would later hold.

Elias clasped his hands around Jon’s wrists, slowly pushing them upwards, above Jon’s head. Until they were face to face, until Jon’s hands reached the edge of the desk.

“Don’t let go,” he whispered against Jon’s lips as he curled his fingers around the edge. When Jon nodded and tightened his grip, Elias rewarded him with a kiss. Distracting him so thoroughly that Jon didn’t even notice that he’d reached for his tie again.

The kiss broke with a gasp when Elias gave it a tug, leaving his other hand braced against the desk as he pulled away from Jon. Instinctively, Jon raised his head to follow the motion, but the position of his arms kept him from going further.

Elias nodded with appreciation when Jon set his head down again, muscles in his arm straining as he forced himself to hold on. This time, when Elias tightened the silky length again, he could watch the knot press against Jon’s throat. Watch as Jon gulped for air. A quiet whimper escaped from the back of his throat when Elias ground down his hips against Jon’s, the tie slipping from his hand as the sensation shuddered through his body. 

Unable to ignore the searing ache for much longer, Elias dropped a hand between their bodies, rushing to free his own cock. Guiding it to slide along Jon’s, the soft skin already slick with precome, quiet gasps mingling in the space between them.

It was downright vexing, to rein himself in now, take his hand away again. But if he had one virtue, it was patience. And it was quite easy to remain patient when it gave him the chance to watch Jon writhe so beautifully beneath him, desperate and needy.

Elias reached for Jon’s tie, but this time, it was to unravel it, a soft whisper of cloth as the knot opened. Jon regarded him quizzically, goosebumps prickling across his skin when the silk ghosted along the side of his neck before Elias set it aside. His thumbs hooked under the fabric of his shirt, prying the last buttons open. His eyes widened when Elias’s hands settled just below his throat.

His thumb stroked lightly over Jon’s collarbone while he kept his gaze fixed on Jon’s face. There was something soft in his eyes, nearly lost in the terror that kept his features wound tight. Elias was eager to draw it to the forefront. His hands lingered in place, thumbs settling lightly on his throat. He could feel Jon inhale sharply; his lips parted to mouth his name, the faintest vibration of his vocal cords against Elias’s grip.

Jon’s pulse rushed against his fingers as he shifted the position of one hand, curling It around his throat, while dropping the other to grasp their cocks. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him, the hint of relief.

He gave Jon’s throat a light squeeze, enjoying the way he jerked up against him, the soft sounds he couldn’t contain. But when he applied more force, Jon’s grip on the desk loosened, his hand rising up towards Elias.

Elias pulled his hand away from between them to catch Jon’s, to guide it back to where it belonged.

“You’ve been so good for me until now,” he said, punctuating his words with a thrust along the junction of Jon’s thigh, avoiding his leaking cock. “You won’t disappoint me now, will you?”

Jon gripped the edge again, knuckles turning white. Elias smiled and leaned over Jon, continuing those gentle, tantalising thrusts. “Very good,” he whispered, against his lips, squeezing around Jon’s throat again. More firmly, this time. Digging his fingers into the tender skin.

Jon leaned into the crook of his thumb to capture his lips, his neck craning with the tension, arms trembling. He could only hold the position for a few seconds, and when his head fell back onto the desk, Elias chased down his lips, taking his breath away with his hand and his kiss, angling one of Jon’s thighs up so he could grind along it, leaving Jon to thrash underneath him, squeezing tighter, tighter.

Jon shuddered and stilled beneath him, slickness spreading between them. Elias released his grip, allowing Jon to draw in sharp breaths. Relishing the little sounds Jon couldn’t contain now, vocal sighs as he slowly returned to himself. His arms were still firmly in place.

“Very good, Jon,” Elias whispered, grinding against him without restraint, enjoying the way Jon’s body twitched beneath his when he brushed against his sensitive cock. The way his gaze slowly sharpened and found him, trapped him. It didn’t take long for Elias to follow Jon.

Elias collapsed on top of Jon, panting against his skin, mouthing gently at his neck, the reddened skin that now bore the marks of his hand. In his peripheral vision, he could see Jon’s arm move. His muscles were stiff as Jon wrapped Elias in a hesitant embrace. Elias kissed his neck, and the arms around him relaxed. 

How easy would it be to drift off now, soothed by the gentle rhythm of Jon’s breathing. The certainty that his Archivist was where he belonged. But the calm they had built was too fragile to last.

Still, Elias couldn’t resist extending the moment, delaying the return to reality. He took his time to clean Jon with a soft handkerchief, his muscles loose and relaxed beneath his touch as his mind lingered in a rare state of peaceful quiet.

But with every piece of clothing they put back on, all those reminders of the circumstances around them, the thrum of tension returned. A nervousness that was quite different from before, eased but not quite dispelled when Elias pressed a gentle kiss to Jon’s forehead.

Finally, Jon reached for his tie again, but Elias had already picked it up. A sad thing now, crumpled and out of shape.

“I can hardly let you walk out of here wearing this,” he said, rolling it up and setting it on the desk.

Jon raised his hand uncertainly, pulling at his collar. “But-“

“But I do believe I have an appropriate replacement.” He’d meant to give it to him another day, a reward for a special occasion. But there was little harm in the occasional indulgence. So he retrieved the small box from one of his desk drawers and handed it to Jon.

“That’s… that’s very generous of you.” Jon opened the box hesitantly, running a fingertip along the tie. “But I don’t think I can accept that.”

“Please, Jon, I insist,” Elias said. He reached out towards him. “May I?”

Jon handed over the box with no resistance. Closed his eyes and lifted his chin so easily, so trusting, when Elias tipped it up gently, allowing a glimpse the marks Elias had pressed and kissed into his skin. Beautiful and so poorly hidden. It was a shame to distract from them, a shame that it was necessary. But he enjoyed the opportunity to run his fingers across them once more. To hear Jon draw in a sharp breath before he relaxed again and let Elias finish his work.

“It suits you,” Elias said and caressed Jon’s cheek, smiling as Jon’s eyes fluttered open again. “Wear it for me next time, will you?”

Jon’s skin heated beneath his touch. “Yes.”


End file.
